Join RCF in welcoming Susan Green, Art Forces founder, for a series of presentations on multimedia murals and stories of communities using art to resist colonial occupation and manifest visions for justice. Art Forces, working in partnership with grassroots community groups, uses community public art and technology, including murals, websites, social and new media, to inspire critical thinking and action. From the streets of San Francisco Bay Area to Olympia Washington, to refugee camps of Palestine and Lebanon, the projects make visible histories and relationships that have been obliterated and forgotten, making connections to national and global issues of social and environmental justice, borders, precarity, migrations, and decolonization.

The presentation will include a 22-minute in-progress video of community murals in Silwan East Jerusalem, called “Our Streets–My Homeland is Not a Suitcase”. The Palestinian village of Silwan, East Jerusalem, daily resists escalating attacks by Israel, the goals of which include the expulsion of the entire Palestinian population. In 2015, as part of its struggle against dispossession, the Silwan community worked with international artists to paint 1500 square feet of public murals embodying their identity, history, culture, and determination to remain on their land.

SUSAN GREENE is an internationally-known interdisciplinary artist, educator and clinical psychologist. Her practice traverses cultural arenas, focusing on borders, migrations, feminism, decolonization, trauma and memory. She conducts research on intersections of trauma, creativity, resilience and resistance through multimedia projects she directs with Art Forces, which she founded in 2001. Sites of her 50+ public art installations span West Bank and Gaza, Palestine and refugee camps in Lebanon to the streets of San Francisco and Oakland CA. Greene initiated and directs the Olympia-Rafah Solidarity Mural Project in downtown Olympia.

The Rachel Corrie Foundation is honored to present the photography exhibit, “A Day in the Life of Yemen”, showcasing the work of the late photojournalist Luke Somers for the month of September 2018 at the Capitol Theater (206 5th Ave SE, Olympia, WA 98501) in partnership with the Olympia Film Society. The exhibit is open to ticket-holding guests of the theater.

Luke Somers, a British-born American freelance photographic journalist and resident of Yemen, was killed in a failed raid attempt in December 2014, one year and three months after his abduction by armed tribesmen. Luke arrived in Sana’a, Yemen in 2011 as an English teacher; and, although revered by his students and colleagues, Luke began to shift gears into photojournalism, bearing witness to the visceral realities – both bleak and inspiring – of the country, as well as the cultural phenomena of the Arab Spring as it swept through the region.

As time unraveled, Luke became a full-time freelance journalist who worked for several Yemeni newspaper outlets throughout Sana’a, including National Yemen and Yemen Times. In the process, Luke began submitting photo essays to prestigious news organizations, including The New York Times, Al Jazeera, BBC and NPR, highlighting cultural, personal and political facets of the country’s people. Luke spent much of his time in Tent City, Change Square – the protestors’ main area of living and congregating – where he had spent countless hours, days, weeks andmonths sharing food, plans, conversation, and stories. This was Luke’s home.

Purpose of the Exhibit

Luke, amid his many human qualities, was a thoughtful, intensely passionate, sensitive soul who arrived in Yemen with no agenda but to simply be. His authentic and outgoing outlook toward the Yemeni people – as well as those of any other origin – led to his work as a photojournalist, as it not only allowed him to spend the bulk of his time with everyday citizens but also to continue his skilled hobby as a photographer while receiving a subsistent wage. A primary purpose of this exhibition is to not only celebrate the life of Luke– as a human being and as a citizen of the world – but to also appreciate the beautiful, highly detailed and telling work that he created from 2011 to 2013.

After Luke’s death, the state of Yemen has only become direr. Due to political corruption, the former and present administration’s use of drone strikes, as well as Saudi-led and U.S. backed sanctions, airstrikes, and bombings, Yemen has been reduced to a deplorable state, where malnutrition and youth mortality have skyrocketed. Luke knew, befriended and loved the very people who are now either gone or struggling for their survival. Through thisexhibition, we will be providing a lens through Luke’s – and, in turn, our – eyes to the hospitality, generosity, beauty and sheer authenticity of the people of Yemen. In doing so, we hope to bridge the wide gap in understanding that defines our “us-and-them” mentality, as well as to provide a glimpse into a day in the life of a Yemeni citizen.

We invite you to participate in a journey of Luke’s powerful and transformative years in Yemen.

Words from Luke

Revolution Reflection

By Luke Somers

After moving to Sana’a in early February, Yemen’s (now “Honorary”) President Ali Abdullah Saleh long remained unreal in my imagination. I didn’t watch television much, but did hear people speak about him to an inordinate degree. Pictures of him, plastered about the city, again inordinately contributed to my sense of the man. Based simply on the pictures, he was waxy, vibrant, stern and yes, rather unreal.

Saleh, Yemen’s 33-year-long president, soon found a firmer foothold in my imagination. Not through personally witnessing him issuing directives and giving orders, but through coming into close contact with people daily affected by such directives and orders. Seeing with my own eyes (but thankfully, somehow, with my camera’s viewfinder acting as something of a buffer) how sniper fire from paid “balatiga” (“thugs”) could make a man’s face unrecognizable; how young people who, after a frantic motorcycle ride and who mere minutes earlier were forming the peace sign with their hands can then be deposited on a mosque floor, bleeding and unable to breathe.

Saleh has, from early this year, met his country’s brightest hopes for the future head on, and with unmitigated brutality. He, like many of the youth that desire some hope for themselves and their children (whether at home or in their future imaginings) have learned, understands that the world, simply put, generally cares as much as it knows about Yemen and its people – that is, very little. The difference is, while Saleh’s regime manages to capitalize on this lack of knowledge and interest to extract funds from more powerful nations for military equipment and training, Yemen’s pro-democracy protesters managed to see the world around them not with cynicism, but with hope.

Inspired by protests that swept dictators from Tunisia and Egypt, young men and women put down their books and individual aspirations with the aim of doing the same for their own country. This point can’t be emphasized enough. Living in a poor country, a country largely cut off from the daily swirl of world affairs, these young men and women realized that opportunities for individual betterment don’t come cheap – and may come around only once. Even so, modest numbers of university students took to the streets, unarmed, with peace signs held high, their safety receiving no guarantees. Their numbers only grew.

That the “shabab” – the youth – are less savvy when it comes to political affairs, and less organized than one might hope shouldn’t come as a surprise. The man they have been struggling to depose has been in power for more than most people in this young country have lived. It has, in fact, been both heartbreaking and beautiful to witness, to photograph, to spend hours with people who expect the best from the world and who have dared to believe in one of the best, most absurd ideas imaginable: that of peaceful protest.

Barely-conscious protesters, sprayed with chemicals and shot at close range, have raised the peace sign in the hope that a camera would see and that a world would care. Meanwhile, reality says that these same young Yemenis would, blindly, be more easily associated with al-Qaeda than with peace, even while it is impossible to find citizens from any part of the country who consider the local branch of the terrorist organization to be anything more than a ragtag band of men not numbering more than a hundred but who have, skillfully, been used by Saleh’s government to extract concessions, funds, equipment, and military training from foreign powers.

Ali Abdullah Saleh has since signed a power transfer deal. Government ministries have been divvied up between Saleh’s General People’s Congress party and opposition parties. Meanwhile, youths around the country have not left their “tent cities”. Resolving Yemen’s various states of crises has very possibly – and purposefully – been allowed to take precedence over meaningful change and grounds for future hope.

Saleh’s signing of the GCC power transfer deal may have seemed like an apt opportunity for the youth to celebrate. Some did, but many others resisted the temptation. I communicated with and photographed the 20-or-so denizens of the “Deaf and Dumb Youth Revolution Alliance” tent, not far from opposition-held Change Square, in the moments before and after Saleh’s signing. Gesticulating with fervor but managing not to overwhelm the lone translator, their comments ran from “Yemeni blood is precious, there must be a trial” to “As for the west, we tell them not to have double standards and use us to test their weapons. You demand human rights – where are our human rights in Yemen?” Their manner was nonetheless warm and their dedication to peaceful protest unquestionable. Their pointed words reflect frustration that their revolution – after so much blood has been shed and so much hope put into action – may somehow be lost. After ten months in Yemen, after being in the midst of its Yemenis in the most trying and revealing of circumstances, I don’t see such young men becoming future threats to global security. Rather, if their revolution and their positive outlooks have, in the end, proven to be futile, I see them growing older, living with dignity in impoverished conditions, and wondering where the rest of the world – and where their youthful, naïve hopes – went.

Special Thanks to:

The Somers family for making this exhibit possible and for generously sharing Luke’s work with the world.

The Olympia Film Society for providing the space and logistical support in sharing this exhibit with the Olympia community.

Five Questions For: Rachel Corrie’s Parents

Last month marked the 15th anniversary of the death of Rachel Corrie, a young American peace activist killed in 2003 by an Israeli soldier-driven bulldozer as she tried to stop the demolition of a Palestinian family home in Gaza. Since then, her parents Craig and Cindy have carried on her work through the Rachel Corrie Foundation for Peace and Justice. They paid us a visit with fellow peace activists American Joe Catron and Palestinian Islam Maraqa, who, like Rachel Corrie before her death, work with the International Solidarity Movement.

Q: How does it feel to see the news out of Gaza now at the fifteen-year anniversary of Rachel’s death?

Craig Corrie: It seems to me, particularly when I’m watching from here in the West, that nobody pays any attention to Gaza. Which is why our daughter went there.

Cindy Corrie: Fifteen years is a long time. What Rachel would want us to be asking is, “what do we need to do to support this?” To have more than 20,000 Gazans standing on that border risking what they’re risking and yet doing it joyfully—I think we’re compelled to really listen and to really engage.

Q: After the judge cleared the Israeli military of any wrongdoing in Rachel’s case, you were told “There’s no such thing as civilians in Gaza.” Today, we have high-ranking Israeli official Avigdor Lieberman saying “There’s no innocent people in Gaza.” How does that strike you?

Craig Corrie: It’s a war crime! He’s admitting to a war crime. Let’s not forget that. As a family we’ve tried to hold them as accountable as we could.

Cindy Corrie: There’s nothing here that surprises us. In the court case it became very clear that Israeli soldiers in Gaza in 2003 never expected to testify in a courtroom and be held accountable.

The person who was in charge of Southern Gaza when Rachel was killed by the bulldozer, [Colonel Pinhas (Pinky) Zuaretz], testified in our case. When he was asked what happened to Rachel, he said, “I think a wall fell on her.”

Q: What is different in Gaza today?

Joe Catron: Israel is openly admitting to the massacre of unarmed demonstrators. They’re not trying to obscure it or shuffle the blame onto individual actors as they’ve done in cases like Rachel’s death.They’re claiming it, they’re proud of it. This is something of a tipping point for us here.

Trump’s recognition of Jerusalem completely discards the idea that the United States can be any kind of an honest broker in this situation.

Q: Has Trump changed things?

Cindy Corrie: With Trump’s recognition of Jerusalem, moving the U.S. Embassy—I don’t think people in the United States even understand how the rest of the world views that as an outrageous, unacceptable step. It completely discards the idea that the United States can be any kind of an honest broker in this situation.

Islam Maraqa: As Palestinians, we never saw the difference between the American presidents. All the time, the only thing we hear on the news from any American president is], “Israel has the right to defend itself. Israel has the right to defend itself.” And what about the Palestinians? Unfortunately, the Americans are most of the time adopting the Israeli narrative, and supporting everything possible.

Q: What should people here in the United States do to educate themselves about this struggle?

Cindy Corrie: People are always calling for Palestinians to behave nonviolently. If we’re not standing with them, and ensuring that there’s some positive result from this, then I think we set up an even more dangerous situation.

The anti-BDS work going on has provided us a window into our state legislatures and Israeli influence there. It’s an opportunity to do some work there too, to say, “there’s a piece of this you need to know more about.”

Craig Corrie: The obvious tie is the training of our police forces in the United States by the Israelis. We should be working to make sure that our police forces are not trained by people who view whomever they meet on the street as a foreign entity. That’s one of the places where this ties together with Black Lives Matter. It all is in the same room.

Thirty-nine years ago today, our daughter Rachel was born. An hour after her birth, I held and talked to her as her mother, Cindy, showered. Rachel was our third child, and I told her that her mother and I had some experience in raising children. I told her she would be loved, that she would not be a rich child, but that she would have a rich life. I shared that while she might not like every aspect of our parenting (particularly when she became a teenager) she had a big brother and sister to love her, to show her the ropes, and to have her back when arguments inevitably would arise. I told my daughter that her life would not be perfect, but I promised that it would be all right. This was our third child. I knew how to do this!

When Rachel went to Gaza, she took us with her, through her emails home to Cindy. After she was killed, we followed her to Gaza and met her new friends in person. We were privileged to directly experience their hospitality and to witness their struggle against oppression. We wondered at their steadfast determination to forge for their children the same sort of future that I had so rashly promised to Rachel.

Now, those friends in Gaza are engaged in an historic struggle for their future and for the future of their children. Gaza is rapidly becoming unlivable. Most of us would say it already is. The families of Gaza are demanding release from the siege that has intentionally made Gaza the world’s largest outdoor prison for over a decade. Their nonviolent protests are being met with deadly, violent repression. I am in awe of both the courage demonstrated in such protest and the desperation that makes it necessary.

It is our turn now. There comes a moment when, if we all push, the struggle moves forward. Now is that time. As the U.S. Government moves against justice for the Palestinian people, we, the American people, must move even more forcefully for it. Palestinians have no choice but to struggle for their freedom. Their only choice is how. If we with our American privilege do not support their nonviolent struggle, we have to ask ourselves what we de facto are supporting. Please join us in contacting your members of Congress and telling them to demand an end to the siege of Gaza. Write a letter to your local paper. Paste a message of solidarity on Facebook. Tweet and re-tweet the news as it comes from Gaza. And please be visible on your street corner every Friday in solidarity with the people of Gaza.

One thing our daughter never did was look away. Now is the time to stand firmly with our friends in Gaza as Rachel did, look this demon apartheid squarely in the eye, and defeat it. Insh’allah.